Because I Want You
by Totally Raven
Summary: "I want you, why are you waiting?" she whispered. Why indeed? Draco's new friendship with Hermione after the War is tainted by his desire for her, and the man standing in his way. Dramione, smut, romance. Graphic adult lemon scenes. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I'm not really sure how to categorise this tale. It will be a two or three part sotry (I'll tell it all here in chapters though). It's one of my personal favourites, so I'm hoping you others enjoy it too. Reviews keep my blood pumping. ;)

Disclaimer: You know who ths belongs to and it's not me

Warnings: (These are new for me) This story contains subject matter not suitable for persons under 18 years. You have been cautioned.

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"I want you," she whispered breathlessly. "Why are you waiting?"

Why indeed, he wondered. Perhaps it was because he loved her, and wanted this to mean more than it seemed to. Perhaps it was because Ron Weasley loved her, and this was betrayal, no matter how much they both wanted it. Perhaps it was simply because he was used to being in control and didn't like her thinking she was.

Draco Malfoy looked down at the girl stretched out beneath him. Hermione. She stared back up with languid eyes, eyes dark with lust and sleepy with wine. It was two years since they'd left school, and age was doing her well. She was only twenty, but her body was well formed as a woman's. Draco looked at her naked breasts, the nipples dark pink and taut in the cool room. Her belly curved gracefully, in under the ribs and back out around the navel. Below this he could not see, for here his own hips overlapped hers.

He wondered how she saw his own youthful body, wondered if she knew how mad she was making him, lazily wriggling her hips, trying to place his hard manhood where she wanted it. The desire in him was burning his whole body. Gods, how he wanted to plunge into her depths, consume her and feel her around him. He wanted her to want him. But yet he was waiting.

This had been a long time coming. Since school had let out many things had happened; since the war had ended things had changed. Draco hadn't seen any of the "Golden Trio" in well over a year, when he bumped into Hermione in Diagon Alley. How beautiful she was! Far more so than he remembered. She was showing off her body now, something she had never done in school, and he was surprised to find it lean and curvaceous. Hermione wasn't a tall woman, that was obvious, but he had always assumed her stockier than she was. Perhaps she had lost weight, Draco had mused.

He harbored no ill will towards the Gryffidors now, and they had tolerated him in the few months after the war, when everyone was working together to rebuild the school and their secret world. He had seen the way it was between Granger and Weasley, and fumed. He had always loved her, underneath his loathing. It had driven him crazy, and straight into the arms of Pansy Parkinson. He had never cared to pleasure _her_, but had dreamt of that crimpled hair and those brown eyes. Now, when he saw those taut legs, tanned under the black mini-skirt, he knew he couldn't hold back.

Diagon Alley had been blazing that day. Draco had his sunglasses pushed high on his nose to block the glare. He watched Hermione as she wandered. She was alone. That was good. Of them all, Hermione had been the most forgiving. Harry and Ron had kept up a united front against him, but the resentment had slowly faded. Hermione was wandering in and out of the book shops and clothes stores. Draco watched her, entranced by the way her hips swung, the way her legs looked, from mid-thigh to the ends of her high-heel clad toes.

He was standing by Fortescue's. She turned and made her way towards his general direction. She was wearing a green top with capped sleeves and a v-cut neck. He felt himself suck in a sharp breath as he saw the orbs of her breasts, moving slightly under the fabric. He never would have guessed her school robes were hiding those. They must have been double the size of Pansy's, though that wasn't saying much. If Pansy could be called anything, it was petite.

A sliver of Hermione's belly drew his eyes. The skin there was tanned also. A crazy impulse in him wanted to lick it.

She came closer, and he stepped out to meet her, greeting her with her Christian name. Hermione seemed surprised, but had agreed to sit down with him for coffee.

From there, a friendship had started. They met in secret at first, and then the others got to know about it. Ron always seemed suspicious of him, Harry merely tolerant. Hermione and he quickly formed a bond.

That was six months ago. Now they were in bed together. This had come about rather suddenly. Draco knew that sexual tension had developed between them, about a month ago. Hermione was engaged to Ron, but hesitant about marriage. Harry and Ginny weren't. Draco and Hermione's first kiss had been at their engagement party. She had been a mess of emotions, worried and tense and a little drunk and Draco had come across her hiding by the duckpond in Harry's new yard. She was feeling fenced in, like she wasn't going to have time to do the things she wanted. Molly Weasley was pushing for a quick wedding.

"Why can't I be more like you!" Hermione had wailed. "You do whatever you want and no one bothers you!" Draco had made a noise of dissention, but Hermione had ignored it. "No one expects anything of you – not to have any babies by the time you're eighteen and learning how to cook a favourite meal for a whole fucking family!"

Hermione had carried on in that note. "Everyone's pressuring me into this role and I'm not ready for it! Good wife and friend and sister and daughter! You're the only one who doesn't want me to be something different."

"That's because I love you just as you are," Draco said, aiming for flippancy, but glad the darkness hid the rising heat in his face.

He was positive it was the drink that had made her respond. "I love you as you are too, Draco," she had said, and then she had wrapped one hand around his head and kissed him. It wasn't the chaste kiss of a friend, but hungry and needy. Hermione's lips forged against his own, pliant with gin and her body crept closer until he felt those magnificent breasts pressed hard against his own toned chest, her leg hugging his.

Despite his dearest desires, Draco forced himself to pull back. He laughed it off and patted her head.

He had worried about being alone with her after that. But Hermione had had other plans. From that day on, she had deliberately sought him out. They had had drinks once a week and dinner twice in the last three weeks. Draco was delighted with the time they spent together. Hermione had even taken him lingerie shopping, something Ron had refused to do with her.

They discussed everything under the sun. Most of all, Hermione liked to talk about her life and the direction it was headed. "Over the past eighteen months things have changed," Hermione said one night over a plate of ragout. "I've matured and my hormones have settled. I don't even _know_ how I feel about Ron anymore. He's very controlling, too. Jealous. He'd go nuts if he knew I was here with you. He thinks I'm visiting Mother." Hermione smiled blandly.

"Maybe he's not the one you should be with," Draco said, twirling spaghetti around a fork. He was finding it hard to be objective. She was never more attractive to him than when she was open like this. Right now, he was seeing the true Hermione, laid on a plate, cut open, for him to devour. She trusted him. God how he wanted her. Before they left that night, she kissed him again. This time was more intense. Hermione had grabbed for him, her fingers gripped around his belt, her eyes bored into his and then she pressed her mouth against his, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth, caressing it with her own lips. She forced her tongue into his mouth, and this time Draco wasn't strong enough to pull away. He gave himself to the kiss, wrapping his tongue around hers, his arm around her back, pushing her body into his. He pressed his hips into hers, primally.

Suddenly Hermione had jerked back. "Goodnight," she said, in a voice, not ashamed or embarassed, but almost wondering.

That had been a week ago. Tonight they had met up for drinks. Hermione had had four gins and orange juice in the bar before inviting him back to her place. Draco was hesitant. Hermione told him it wouldn't be a problem. Draco wondered now if she had planned it all.

At her house, for the first time, Draco had taken it all in. The house _felt_ like Hermione to him. The silk scarves draped over the armchairs, the pictures of animals on the table. Her old cat was curled in an armchair, so Hermione invited Draco to sit beside her on the couch. "Let's watch a movie," she said with a smile. "You won't have seen one before."

She was right; he hadn't. It was a strange phenomenon, he thought, some sad story about a woman in her thirties who went desperately after the wrong kind of man. Draco had the feeling Hermione had watched this quite a lot over the past few weeks. Over the two hours they had consumed a bottle of wine, and Hermione turned to him with a faint smile on her face. "What did you think?"

"Interesting concept." Draco replied.

"What did you think of the story?"

"Utter slush!" Draco said with a laugh. Hermione had smiled again, looking a little sad.

"You're gorgeous when you laugh," she said quietly. Draco smiled back at her. There was a strange look in her eyes. She announced they share another bottle of wine. Draco wanted to protest, but Hermione insited. She went over to the box of metal she called a 'television' and fiddled with the technology, putting a circle of plastic into a drawer. She said she wanted to show him another type of muggle moving picture, something called a "sitcom".

Hermione explained the premise of the show, called MASH. She said it was based in the time of a muggle war, and had started as a comedy but developed also into a historical drama. Draco asked her how muggles fought wars. Hermione gave him a brief overview of weaponry and battle concepts, then told him she'd explain more later. The adverts were over and the show was ready to start. Draco wondered if there was anything she didn't know.

Draco had never before seen the type of acting that muggles indulged in. Wizards weren't overly fond of live arts performed by their own kind – ghosts, beasts, potions gone wrong, were all far more entertaining. It was fascinating to him what muggles had achieved with their limited resources. How entertaining the two tall men were together, the kinds of humour, the pranks… before he knew it the two of them were giggling like children over their wine, tipsy and amused both.

It was then that it happened. Draco had looked at her, and Hermione had looked at him, her glass at her lips, chuckling. His breath caught. Every fiber of his being screamed suddenly, _danger_! The look came into her eyes, and his heart felt like it was skipping every beat. He couldn't make the first move – happily or not, she was spoken for! She was engaged! She was not to be his, she was drunk, she didn't love him, she loved Ron, she … she was putting her glass down, so shakily it almost dropped on the carpet. His eyes registered this, and before he could look back at her, Hermione had grasped his face in her two palms and was kissing him on the mouth.

It was hungry, and desperate, and oh-so passionate and when she twisted her fingers into his hair and pulled him as close as was physically possible, he stopped fighting it.

He pulled her closer, wrapping an arm around her tight little waist. He could feel her breasts crushed against his chest, her own chest heaving as she tried to get enough breath to feed her racing didn't feel much more in control himself. She was rushing into it, into something that his brain had only just registered was actually happening. And if it was happening, he wanted to savour it, take it slowly, taste every part of it like she was a New York cheesecake.

Hermione's hands were on his belt, her mouth sliding over his, her lips stained dark with wine. "Do you want me, Draco?" she whispered, husky, almostto quiet for him to hear.

"Yes. Oh, yes," his mouth spoke before his brain thought. Mentally, he kicked himself in the head.

Hermione groaned against his lips, her hands wrigling, trying to get inside his trousers but struggling to get past the waistband, stretched tight across his hips, where his legs bent upwards.

Draco felt her hair, stroked it. Like her body, it seemed to be on fire, crackling and spitting under his touch. His fingers trailed down her cheek, her jaw, her neck… he pulled himself closer to her, and she lay down under his persuasion, pulling him over her. Draco pressed hot, wet kisses to her neck. He could feel her need, shining in her aura, hollering as loud as his own. His mind already felt an ecstasy knowing that this was happening, it was _happening_, dammit!

He unbuttoned her dress, and struggled to remove it, and her bra and panties. In the end, they stood, undressing each other in a tight, warm embrace, kissing. "I want you to make love to me, Draco," Hermione said, stepping back, looking at him with a cheeky spark in her eye. She lay down on the couch again, one arm propped under her head, the other against the back rest, and one leg hanging languidly off the side of the seat, bouncing the tiniest bit. Draco took advantage of this perfect opportunity to study her body, the body he had dreamed of since he saw that tiny stretch of skin between her skirt and her top, months ago in Diagon Alley. Jesus, it felt like years of wanting, desirous waiting.

Her breasts sat nicely the way her arms were positioned, softer looking than he thought they would, fuller than her tops made them appear. Her skin stretched tight and soft over her belly. He could see the harsh ridges of her ribs, and the cliffs of her hip bones. She was too thin, he thought, stress induced no doubt.

Her hips were wide, and her legs were long, slim, sleek and toned. Her body was perfectly hairless, all but a little stripe on her most precious of secret places. Ah, he wanted to touch that hair, stroke it, comb it with his fingertips.

"Come on," Hermione said, her eyes staring at him. He sank, naked himself, and not at all self-conscious with her, like he would have thought – it was the first time someone he truly cared about had seen him naked. Her opinion mattered. He thought he would have been shy. He sank to the floor beside her chair, and touched her body. One hand went to her breast, the other touched her swollen lips. She pressed fervent kisses to his fingertips as he massaged the soft mass of her breast, circled, teased and pinched the nipple. Her breath sounded like a pant, and her own hand slid down the back of the backrest to rest between her legs.

Well, that he couldn't allow. If she needed something, he wanted to provide it. Her hand came over his as he ran it down her mound, trailing one finger through the tiny strip of hair. He let her show him how she liked it, but before he could even slip one needy finger into her, having, tremblingly, tickled that sensitive tiny button, she was dragging him by the shoulders to lie over her again.

Draco kissed her, feeling his need pumping from his lips into her mouth. How he wanted this! How he had dreamed of it! He thought of her as untouched by sin, ready and willing to give him all of her. He knew that was fallacy, but the idea of it lingered in his mind. She was kissing him on the neck, feverishly moving her body against him, when the next thought fluttered into his brain.

What about Ron, who must see her the same way? What about the promise between them? What would happen tomorrow? What would happen when she was sober? He pulled himself up.

"I want you," she whispered breathlessly. "Why are you waiting?"

Indeed. Why indeed.

He didn't wait another second.

Draco felt his way with his hand, touching tentatively, then used his hand to place his manhood at her opening. She squirmed against him, and his breath caught. Hermione was muttering under her breath, pushing her hips towards him. Gently, he pushed into her.

He felt his length sliding through her, her hot walls gripping him. He let out a sound he'd never heard himself make before, as he filled her, and she echoed the noise. He felt her muscles tighten, her back arched, her hands reached out for him and found his shoulders.

He started slowly, each thrust a slow torment, each pump of her hips a wave of delight. She wanted this too, as much as him, surely.

Hermione's hand was on his back, the other was sliding a tickling trail down his spine. It reached his hips, continued down and she grabbed his buttocks. Draco thrust into her, hard, spurred by the need she was exhibiting.

"Yes, that's it…" Hermione breathed, moving with him, pushing against him, grinding her hips against his. He was vaguely aware of his pubic hair chafing her, but that was irrelevant now. He moved into her with a new purpose and her walls clamped down on him. A wave of pleasure rushed through Draco's body, urging his desire, each movement aiding another, Hermione responding in time, her body writhing beneath him, her fingernails slicing into the skin of his buttock.

Draco pushed himself upwards, leaning on one hand, rocking his pelvis against Hermione's. The soft cushion of her hot flesh was driving him mad, crushing down on his shaft. He reached out with his other hand, felt her breast, pressed against it. Hermione moaned, her head falling back on the seat, her bare throat exposed. He wanted to bite it, bring up a mark to prove she was his. He moved forward, leaning over Hermione's body again. Her skin felt burning hot and freezing cold all at once, clammy against his, soft flesh clinging to his firm chest.

He pressed his lips against her neck. Hermione's head lolled to the side. She was making animal noises in his ear, moving in time to him. He felt it start. Draco pushed his hand into her belly, trying to stop her erratic movements. He wanted this to last, he wanted to sate her.

Hermione wouldn't stop, and Draco felt it happen. A serpent coiled in his abdomen, tightening, tightening. It let go, and he growled, a hoarse, primal sound, grating in his throat. He sank his teeth into her neck, pumping the last drops of his longing deep inside Hermione's welcoming body. She moaned into his ear, and Draco was sure it was meant to be an encouragement.

The moment passed too soon, and Draco lay limp atop Hermione. Her body still rubbed against him, and she sighed, a sleepy sigh, when she realised there was nothing more to take. He wanted to lie there forever, breathing in the warm smell of her skin, the sweetness of her shampoo. Her hair tickled his face. But Hermione was pushing against him, and Draco pulled away, and sat up, only now feeling self-conscious.

Hermione frowned a little, a strange little frown, as she moved to sit beside him. She took his hand and held it with both of hers. "Yuck," she said vaguely.

Mortification flooded Draco. Yuck? _Yuck_? Oh, god.

She must have looked at him and seen his expression, for, stunned and shy, Draco refused to look at her. "Not you," Hermione said drowsily, leaning against him. "Thank you – it was nice. But," she shifted a little, grimacing again, "no one has ever come in me before, without a sheath or something, you know…"

Draco put an arm around her, relief in him now. "Well … maybe I should run you a bath?" he said, not too sure where things should go from here. He became aware of the TV still playing the show, casting light over the room. Something funny must have just happened, for the characters themselves were laughing, but Draco had missed the joke.

Hermione said, "I'd like that." She smiled at him, kissed him lightly on the cheek, then grabbed the bottle of wine and trotted off to the bathroom. Her bottom bounced, and Draco marveled at her brashness. He picked up his own clothes, slipping in his shorts, before he followed her.

She already had the water flowing, and to Draco's surprise he found she had a large, corner tub. Baths were obviously one of the few vices in her life. He stood there, a little awkward, and Hermione came over to him, and wrapped her arms around him. "Will you join me?" she asked. "I don't want you to leave tonight."

Draco felt his heart beat faster, hope coursing through his veins. But there was nagging concern. What was this going to mean tomorrow? What would it mean next week? He felt terribly confused. Still, he decided to join her.

Sitting in the warm water, passing the bottle between them until it was empty, they chatted, Draco apologised for not bringing Hermione to orgasm, and she smiled and said there was always the next time. She kissed him, and fondled him beneath the water and when he sighed and became hard she smiled even more and told him, 'see?'.

Draco stayed that night and just when he was feeling like he was about to drop off to sleep, Hermione slid her still naked body over his. She kissed him, and took him in her hand. Hermione trailed her fingers over his chest as she rubbed him in her other hand. When he was hard, she moved her body over the top of his. Draco was amazed by the strength in her thighs, as she kneeled over him and prepared herself, rubbing the soft head of his penis into her clitoris. Her hips were rocking over it, and this time he let her take her pleasure as she liked it. Last time had been too fast, and she hadn't come. This time he wanted her to use him; he wanted to see her come. He wanted her a million times, to take her a million ways, to taste her fulfillment. Her desire was all he wanted this time.

Hermione's body was perched over him, and he could feel her wetness adding to the pre-cum she had already drawn out of him. Her teeth were clenched, he could tell when she said, "I want to please you… but right now I just need you inside me."

Draco wasn't sure what she meant. Every touch was ecstasy to him. But then every thought was drained from his body as she positioned herself over him and slid him into her body.

The same feeling of completeness washed through him, but Hermione wasted no time with gentleness like Draco had tried earlier. She began to ride him in a way that told Draco instantly she had done it before. He tried not to consider who she had fucked, or how many times. He tried to relax, to enjoy it. His selfish lust for her didn't make it too hard.

Hermione was rocking against him, hard and fast, holding the bars of her bed head with one hand, the other balancing her weight over his chest. Her hips felt like they were swaying, and he knew that if she kept up the race he was going to come first.

Hermione's breath was rasping. Her walls were tight around him. Draco held onto her hips, unsure if he wanted to urge her on or try to stop her.

"Hermione," he groaned, "You're going to make me come…"

She pushed down on him hard, forcing him into her so hard it almost hurt. "Don't worry…" she gasped. "I'm about to as well…"

When she did it was unlike anything Draco had ever felt before. He had never had a woman work herself into an orgasm by being on top – he had made women come, not all of them, but some, some of the time. Mostly though it was by oral or manual stimulation. When Hermione came it was a new experience. She didn't stop as she came, but continued through it, her body clamping down on his shaft like a vice, her juices flowing between the two of them. He had thought her orgasm would make him come, but it didn't. She stopped once she was drained, and he missed his chance, but Draco didn't care. She needed it more than him, he was sure.

Hermione lay beside him after, a sweet relaxed smile on her face. He played with her hair and kissed her sweetly. He saw the teeth marks he had left against her neck. They had come up as a bruise. He felt a little guilty.

They both slumbered, and woke sporadically. Draco took her again early in the morning, before the sun came up. In the last moments, after using a simple spell to tidy himself, and Hermione, before sleep came again he wondered what things would be like when the sun came up. Surely they would be different now.

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_Thanks for reading!_

_Reviews keep my blood pumping. ;)_


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Here it is, the second chapter! Thanks so very much to you wonderful reviewers - you've helped drive me to publish this much faster than I otherwise would have done! On another note, I'm not hugely fond of this chapter myself, so please bear with me. The next (and final) chapter gets smuttier again. ;)

Disclaimer: Not mine. Sadly.

Warning: This story contains subject matter not suitable for persons under 18 years. You have been cautioned.

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Things were different. It was the morning after, and Hermione was hideously hung over. She smiled at him when she got up, and found Draco in the kitchen attempting to make coffee.

"How did you sleep?" she asked, taking over for him. Draco felt suddenly redundant. "I hope I didn't keep you awake too much."

Draco tried to see a sly look on her face, but her expression was drawn and focused as she tinkered with the coffee machine. Draco felt a little snobbish – he had always had a House Elf to make coffee and breakfast and _everything_ for him.

"I didn't mind," Draco said, trying to lighten the shadowy mood he perceived. Hermione threw him a swift smile, and poured the coffee. She put a large mug into his hands and brushed past him into the lounge room. Draco followed, hoping the awkwardness would pass.

Hermione had plonked herself haphazardly onto the couch, and was fiddling with the TV controller. Draco saw the show they had been watching the night before was still on, and Hermione was flicking to a favourite episode on the menu. Draco moved to sit in an armchair, but at the last moment Hermione glanced at him.

"Come and sit by me," Hermione said. Draco complied. The show began on the selected episode, and Hermione slouched against the arm of the couch, throwing her legs across Draco's lap. He sipped his coffee. It was unsugared and black. Not the way he quite liked it, but drinkable nonetheless.

"Thank you for last night," Hermione said quietly, and when Draco looked at her she was looking at him shyly from under her dishevelled hair. "I needed it."

Draco merely nodded. She needed it. Was that all she could say? What about the massive confusion he now had to bear – his feelings for her, her engagement to Ron, their friendship. His frustration made him want to cry.

The actors prattled away in the background, and Hermione chuckled at one of their jokes. Draco smiled; her happiness was still his happiness. Hermione spoke again. "I'm sorry. I've upset you. I shouldn't have made you..."

She trailed off, but Draco knew what she meant. "You didn't make me do anything. Everything I did I wanted to do. How can you doubt that?"

Hermione gave him a little smile. After a short pause she said, "Did you mean it ages ago when you said you loved me?"

Draco didn't recall saying it, not in the way she was claiming. "Yes, it's true," he replied anyway. It was true. It was his turn to bear his soul.

Hermione's smile stretched and she, with some difficulty, sat up and kissed him. It was gentle, caressing, but held all the passion of the night before. Then Hermione lay back down on the couch, and continued watching her show.

Draco finished watching it with her, finished his coffee, and then announced he should leave.

"Really?" Hermione asked quietly. Gods, she looked like hell. Draco thought, if her head felt anything as bad as how she looked, she needed the time alone. She may have needed a night of good shagging, Draco thought a little bitterly, but it didn't seem to have done her any good.

"I think ... we both need time to think ... about last night. And what it means..."

Hermione looked mildly surprised. "Oh," she said softly. "Okay. Can I see you tonight? Dinner?"

Draco smiled, and kissed her a gentle good bye. Their lips clung, almost as if afraid to let go. Then the moment passed, and Draco left.

He spent the day in a daze. He wandered around his apartment in London, but couldn't settle to anything. He took himself into town, but nothing took his fancy. He wandered down Diagon Alley, and remembered seeing Hermione walking through the book stores, remembered thinking how much thinner she seemed than he remembered. Now, he had seen just how thin.

He decided to Owl her some flowers, and meandered into a florists. Then he decided to buy some new wax for his broomstick. He browsed the bookstores. He went into Gringotts to exchange some more Galleons into pounds. He had a late lunch. Then he returned home.

By the time Draco reached his apartment it was nearly four thirty. It had been late when they awoke that morning. A note had come from Hermione, thanking him for the flowers, and informing him of the time and place for dinner. It was a place they visited often, the time set for six thirty.

Damn, another two hours of consideration, heart ache, confusion, before Draco could speak to her again. His mind had been racing all day. He knew how he felt, and he knew what he wanted. He felt selfish, like he had abused her trust of him, betrayed her friends and family.

He sat down, and thought of pouring a drink for himself. He decided against it – it seemed to him that Hermione turned to drink whenever discontented. Besides, he had had plenty enough to drink the night before, and probably would have more at dinner.

Without a TV to entertain him, and his thoughts running wild in circles like a dog after its own tail, he turned to a book. Try as he might, Draco could not concentrate on it, though it was a novel he had started a fortnight before and was enjoying. He had developed a fond love of muggle literature. He liked the simplicity of it – with no magic to get in the way, muggle novels had a drama all their own. The book was written many years prior, by an Australian woman, and had been recommended by Hermione.

"_All the River's Run_," Hermione had said, putting a slip of orange paper into his hand with the name of the book and the name of the author. "It's a three part novel, so make sure you buy the right one; not one of sections. You'll like it, it's about a woman trying to live the way she wants."

_Very inspiring_, was the way Hermione had wistfully described it when Draco told her he had bought the book. He understood why she could relate to it – he had reached a part describing a drought (something he had never experienced, and could hardly imagine), and the character was in a turbulent marriage.

Draco supposed Hermione saw her future reflected in the hot mud of a dry Australian river bed.

Now, the book would not settle his thoughts, and if anything stirred his own emotions further. After half an hour of trying he tossed the book (gently!) aside with a heavy, agitated sigh.

Draco slumped back in his chair, deciding to try and think what he was going to tell Hermione. He had to decide what the right thing to do was. Last night had been mad, drunken, impulsive, and selfish. Tonight would have to be fair and rational. He had to remember that she was in love with another man, she was engaged to be married and could never be his. Would he, Draco, be happy with her as a mistress? Would she be willing to see him on the sly? Would she want to? Would that make her happy? Draco knew it wouldn't; Hermione was too romantic.

So then what, Draco thought. He couldn't suggest she leave her fiancé for him. If she truly wanted that, she would say so, Draco was sure.

More horrid thoughts occurred to him. Hermione had had a day to think things over, too. What if she regretted their alliance? What if it ruined their friendship? Oh god. _What have I done?_ Draco thought. _Why didn't I stop it from happening?_

He must have fallen into a light sleep, because it was just after six o'clock when Draco's next thought occurred. It occurred to him that he must have dozed off, and if he didn't move fast he was going to be late meeting Hermione.

He changed his clothes, brushed his teeth, combed his hair and ridiculously, he thought, put on some cologne. Then he set out to meet Hermione.

Their favourite eatery was closer to Hermione's house than his. Draco decided to Apparate from his place to the bus stop nearest the restaurant. It was the perfect place – muggles were too easy to brush off strange sounds as automobile noises, people suddenly appearing as either inattention or "just got here" scenarios. Draco was always amused by the naivety of muggle people.

From the bus stop (where no one noticed him) it was a walk of three blocks. The restaurant specialised in popular Asian foods, rather than one nation. Draco asked if Hermione had arrived, and was told she had, was seated and had ordered. Draco ordered and went to sit with her.

Hermione looked tiny tonight, small and vulnerable. She must have had a shower at some point; her hair was damp. She had tied half of it back, and there were small yellow flowers tucked into the tie. It hung down her back in limp, fluffy ringlets.

Draco felt slightly awkward as he sat down across from her. He felt marginally less silly when he saw that she too had gone to an effort to look nice. She smiled warmly at him, no sign of awkwardness on her drawn face.

"Damn hangovers," Hermione said smiling. She reached out a hand for her drink – white wine. Draco frowned mentally. There was something seriously wrong with her drinking. Draco hoped it wasn't habitual. He smiled back.

He couldn't stop thinking about how gorgeous she looked – tired and worried, but happy – thin, yes, but still gorgeous, in her long black skirt and purple tunic. Her neck looked white and bare, and Draco thought he should have bought her a pendant instead of flowers. But maybe that would have been presumptuous – or worse, like a payment.

A bony waitress brought over Draco's drink. He frowned again mentally, this time at himself. He'd ordered a screwdriver. He was such a hypocrite.

"Have you had a good day?" he asked. He was avoiding the subject. He hoped she'd bring it up first.

"Oh, yeah. Alright, I guess. Thanks so much for the flowers. They're great."

"No problem."

This was harder than it had been this morning. Small talk had never been Draco's strong point. Hermione reached her hand across the table and rested it on his. "I had a good time last night. I don't regret it. I want you to understand that."

Draco could hear a 'but' coming but Hermione didn't continue. She sipped her wine absently, flicked her hair behind her shoulder. Draco saw the faint red mark of his teeth staring back at him from her pale neck. He breathed in deeply as remembered pleasure filtered into his brain.

The waitress returned with a plate of satay beef strips and some damper-type bread. They each took a piece of the bread – Draco loved it himself. Hermione explained that she had ordered the strips as a starter. Draco merely nodded.

Hermione was chewing slowly on one of the semi-dried strips of meat, sauce sticking to her fingertips. She smiled at him, her teeth gnawing away. It was strange, but Draco loved to look at her even when she was eating. It suddenly occurred to him that this might be the last time they met for dinner, alone at least. Their friendship might not recover.

Draco tried not to think thoughts so hideous to himself. He waited to see what Hermione's inevitable 'but' would bring.

She didn't speak again until their meals arrived. She was sitting quietly, watching him with a small smile on her face, chin resting in one hand with her elbow propped on the table. Draco didn't know what to say, and so they spent a quarter of an hour silent, quietly watching each other and the others in the eaterie. There was a muggle couple sitting at the table nearest them. The woman was tall and stockily built, with thick red hair. The man was taller, thin, with a scruffy beard. They were holding hands across the table and sharing a plate of sashimi.

A small pang went through Draco's heart. They looked happy, laughing, dipping rolls in soy sauce for each other. Why did he, Draco, have to fall for a woman he couldn't have?

Their meals arrived. Usually, Draco loved Japanese style sweet and sour pork, but tonight he had no appetite for it or his vodka. Hermione's appetite seemed better than his. She was twirling large forkfuls of pan fried pasta into her mouth.

"Yum," she purred, swallowing and licking her lips and looking at him. The tiniest of slight frowns creased between her eyes. "Aren't you hungry, Draco?"

Draco didn't know how to respond. He stammered, "Oh, well, sort of ... I guess... just tired I guess."

Hermione quirked an eyebrow at him and continued eating, forking large chunks of lemon chicken into her mouth. Draco didn't respond. He wondered how Hermione could be so relaxed. Even if she didn't have feelings for him that might cause her turmoil, surely she should be feeling something about her relationship with Ron?

Draco tried to force his food down. Hermione watched him the whole time, eating her own meal in record time. It didn't make sense to Draco how she could be so thin when she seemed to eat healthily enough. Though this was the first time Hermione had gobbled her meal like a starving dog, she always ate well enough, so he thought.

When she had finished, Hermione placed her chin in one hand, resting her elbow on the table. She watched him quietly, and Draco felt a little disturbed that she was studying him while he was eating. Usually, they spoke during meals, never running out of things to talk about – work, school, new spells or potions, or muggle related things. Tonight, after the night before, everything seemed to be different. Hermione was companionable enough, and Draco knew he was probably creating the tension between them, but his feelings for Hermione wouldn't allow him to be rational.

Finally, he had finished eating. He managed to finish the plate, but watching Hermione sipping her second glass of wine found he couldn't finish his screwdriver. Hermione ordered dessert, and while they waited between the time their plates were picked up and he next dish arrived, Hermione reached over the table and took one of Draco's hands between her own two.

She smiled vaguely, looking at their joined hands. Draco looked too, and was struck by the difference in size. It wasn't something he had ever thought about before. Hermione's hands were tiny, the skin pale and thin, her fingers narrow. He could see veins and ropes of sinew protruding through the skin, echoing the thinness Draco had seen the night before.

Hermione looked up into his face, still smiling a smile that now didn't reach her eyes. Her forehead was wrinkled lightly. Draco felt it suddenly in his bones – what she was going to say he wasn't going to like.

"Draco," Hermione started, and through his pounding heart he could hear how this speech was trying her. "I've been thinking all day about what we ... about what happened last night."

"Uh huh," Draco said, mentally kicking himself for acting so simple.

"And ... well, as you might imagine I've been a bit confused lately. What with Ron and Harry and engagements and weddings and _everything_ I've just ... needed something to, well, ground me I guess. And you've been there for me and it's been great."

Great, thought Draco. Just great. Now was when she told him she only wanted to be friends. Or worse, now she would tell him that they could no longer be friends.

Hermione rubbed one hand over her forehead, holding his hand still, tightly, with her other. "But."

There it was. The _but_. Draco was sure his heart stopped beating. He stared at their joined hands, unable to look her in the face.

"But the thing is," Hermione said, "I ... I also think that I ... that I might have ... developed ... feelings for you. And I'm not sure what that means." Hermione stammered over the first part of her statement, almost as if it pained her to speak the words, and then rushed the second sentence, so fast Draco hadn't even had time to get his hopes up.

"You see," Hermione said, and now Draco found he had to look at her, had to understand what she was trying to tell him. "The problem is, I don't know where those feelings are coming from. Maybe it's because I'm having commitment issues, or ... well, I just don't know. And I don't want to hurt you, or ruin our friendship, and I'm worried I might have already done that."

"No, Hermione, no! I wanted it," Draco snapped, startled into a response harsher than he meant it to be.

"And so did I," Hermione said emphatically. "Don't think I didn't. But I really don't know where to go from here. I'm engaged, and I don't know what my feelings are or where my loyalties sit, and I'm frightened and stressed and ... maybe that was why last night happened. I don't know. Maybe it happened because my feelings for you are real, and I don't love Ron like I should. I just don't know.

"And so I've made a decision."

Uh oh. Draco didn't like the sound of that. Hermione's voice sounded both strained and final at the same time. Would she end their friendship to prevent a messy fight later on? Why? Did she think he wouldn't fight for her?

"I don't want us to see each other for a little while – just for a little while!" Hermione spoke quickly as Draco opened his mouth to refuse her. His face felt hot, his heart had started pounding in his chest so hard he thought his shirt was moving. To his horror, he felt tears stabbing the back of his eyes.

"It's not forever," Hermione said hotly. "Just a little time for me, to sort out what I want, what I feel. If I choose Ron, we can still be friends. If I don't, we'll figure it out then."

Draco sat, staring at where his hand rested, Hermione's wrapped around it, her nails clawing into his her grip was so firm. He thought she must be waiting for him to say something, but his brain felt like it had gone numb. The worst possible thing had just happened. He was alone again, rejected again, unloved, again.

The silence drew out. The waitress came and delivered the dessert. Draco continued to stare downwards, waiting for his heart to stop its gymnastics.

"Draco?" Hermione finally said quietly. "Are you okay?"

Draco breathed in. Damn it, it was audible. Finally, he looked up. "Sure," he said, feigning as best as he could that it wasn't killing him to hear her.

"I mean it, Draco, it won't be forever. I just need the time to figure out what's going on in my head. You are invaluable to me as a friend – nothing will come between that, not even one drunken night of fantastic sex." She was smiling.

Draco smiled back faintly, even though it was a terrible effort to lighten the air. One drunken night. Christ, he thought, she wouldn't have slept with me if she'd been sober.

Then again, Draco wondered just how often Hermione was sober recently. There was no doubt she was under enormous stress – her wasted body and drinking habits were tribute to that. If he was going to be unselfish – and love was supposed to be unselfish – then he could see why she needed him to be gone for awhile.

"Okay," he said eventually, his voice raspy with suppressed emotion. He nodded, and added, "Sure. Whatever you need."

"Thank you," she said, smiling at him, but Draco found it hard to meet her eye. "I really appreciate it. Now, let's finish this shall we?"

Draco hated her flippant manner, he decided, half an hour later when he was walking back to his apartment from the bus stop. They had finished their drinks, the dessert, hugged and Draco had pecked her on the cheek before going their separate ways. His heart ached.

Hermione had said she would call him once her decisions were made. She hadn't asked him not to contact her, they both knew he would respect her wishes.

Draco let himself into his apartment and threw himself down in his favourite chair. The book was still laying there from the afternoon, but he knew he wouldn't be able to focus on it now. His mind was screaming with dozens of different thoughts, so garbled he couldn't differentiate them. He willed sleep to come and give him solace.

Sleep did come in time. Draco woke the next morning with a stiff neck and cramped shoulders. His mouth was dry and his clothes were sticking to him strangely from twisting around him as he slept. He stood up and stretched his aching muscles.

Draco slouched his way into his bathroom. He decided he needed a shower. He turned the water on, good and hot. Looking out the window as he undressed, Draco could see it was going to be a dismal day. Perfect. Just what he needed when he was feeling down.

Draco stepped into the shower, and stood under the water. Steam curled around his face, the water hot and soothing. His heart was still feeling the hit of the night before, his emotions still reeling. He knew he was being ridiculous, but no matter how many times he tried to tell himself so it didn't help.

Water ran down his back, pooling about his body. Draco wanted to touch himself, to help relieve some of the tension building in his body. The shower would help, he knew, but not in the same way. He let his hand slide down his body, and take hold of his manhood. He almost felt guilty doing it, but he needed it, he knew he did. He squeezed his hand around the soft length of flesh, feeling his nerves respond pleasingly. His fingers fiddled with his foreskin, rubbing the soft glans through it. He felt blood begin to pump harder through his body, and he thought of the night, just two nights ago, when he had had Hermione's soft, small body stretched out underneath him, rubbing against him, moving in one breath with his.

He remembered the look of her white skin, her round breasts and the feel of them against his chest. Her soft self melding with him, the heat of her sex, the taste of her mouth...

Draco sighed, gripping himself tighter, beginning the movement that he liked best. At least Hermione couldn't take away the memory of a night of _fantastic sex_. As he rubbed himself he thought about what it had felt like to be in her, thrusting his desire into her welcoming body, her hot wet core swallowing him up. She had wanted it, he knew she had. Drink or no she had wanted him that night.

Draco imagined taking her again, imagined what he would do next time. In his mind, he felt his member take her up to the hilt, and she was moaning under him, pressing her sharp hips to his, gripping his buttocks, pleading for more.

Draco's breath started to shudder; he worked himself harder, twisting his hand slightly over his pulsing penis, trying to bring himself closer. He was glad he had lasted as long as he had with Hermione, he had surprised himself. He had wanted her so badly... he wanted her now, again, always, forever...

He needed more. Draco thought again, of Hermione fucking him. He recalled the way her breasts bounced as she rode him, the heavenly feeling of her coming on him, her walls clasping him, holding him, sharing her ecstasy with him. He remembered biting her in his release, the pure animal desire she created in him, the desperate wanting, the ultimate satisfaction...

"Orgh..." Draco came into his hand, leaning against the tiled shower wall, his hips spasming against his hand, warm white gloopy nectar pumping over his fingers. Draco gasped and sighed and relaxed. He breathed deeply for a moment, his closed eyes picturing Hermione's sweet face against their black backdrop. Then he grimaced and got on with the act of cleaning himself off.

Afterwards, he felt a little better. He made himself a coffee, with a wizards coffee maker (much simpler), and returned to his armchair. He retrieved his book from where it had landed yesterday, and rested it in his lap. But he didn't feel inclined to read.

He sipped his coffee, sitting in a luxurious bathrobe, and lap rug made by a friend of his mother's several years ago spread over his knees. Hermione's distance still preyed on his mind, but he didn't feel quite so high strung about it. His muscles were relaxed, his body purged. Yet he couldn't settle to an occupation.

He could read. He wasn't in the mood to go out. He could practice his new Potions, or read up on the newest Transfiguration techniques, or review magical beasts. He could do something utterly useless, like paint or review his 'stars'.

In the end he decided to continue with the book Hermione had recommended to him. He was able to concentrate on it more now, and even was able to enjoy it today.

However, every now and then he would stop, distracted by his thoughts, and would think a little on Hermione, picture her smiling eyes, and smile in return. At least, Draco thought, if Hermione could remove herself from his life, she couldn't remove herself from his mind.

* * *

Well, I hope that was worth waiting for!

Thank you for your lovely reviews.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Hello everyone. First of all, I would like to apologise for the enormous gap between these posts. This year has been rough for me - my long term relationship ended very abruptly, and my dog died (she was 13, *sniff*), and then life just caught up with me. It took me awhile to be emotionally able to finish a romance/lemon. But here it is! Secondly, this chapter is the final one. I will only be writing one shots now for awhile to prevent this same situation from happening again.

**Disclaimer:** Same as before.

**Warning:** This chapter contains graphic adult scenes, unsuitable for minors. You have been cautioned.

* * *

One lonely week passed. With no Hermione at his side, Draco decided to steer clear of the friends who were hers first. However, most of the people he had associated with before the War were no longer close to him. Draco tried to remember what he had done, how he had spent his time, before Hermione came into his life.

Every day he wondered how she was doing, what epiphanies she had come to, how her work was going. He found he was missing the rest of her friends, as well.

After the first dreary week, Draco decided that slumming about his apartment, re-reading favourite novels, and idly flicking through old school books just wasn't interesting anymore. He needed to find more to fill his days. Hope that Hermione would contact him was still strong, but starting to fade a little each day.

That first week had been the hardest – his heart was bleeding, his mind missing their conversation. He had wanted to dull himself with alcohol, or take his frustration out on some girl in a bar. But the hope that Hermione would call soon kept him from falling apart. Besides, the reasonable section of his brain reminded him, Hermione was vulnerable and didn't need him falling to pieces on her, not when he had been her solid rock for months past.

So Draco forced himself to find a more fulfilling occupation. He didn't work, and had never needed to, nor did he plan to start now. Instead, he one day went into Diagon Alley, and sat watching people pass, giving Muggle-borns and their families directions on where to get their new wands, cauldrons, robes... He went and bought a new potions book. He tried on a new style of dress robes, and bought some in deep plum. He purchased some broomstick wax and some new flying gloves. He ate expensive ice cream, and bought some more fodder for his two owls, and a letter case. He got some new dragon skin boots. And finally, he went into the most expensive store in the Alley, and bought a pale gold Goblin-wrought head dress.

Retail therapy over, Draco Apparated himself home and searched through all his purchases. He felt empty still, as if he had bought nothing of importance. He put everything away and sat down, flipping idly through his potion book, his fingers tangling in the chain of the head dress.

He slept in the chair and didn't have tea. He didn't stir until almost eight o'clock the next morning. When he rose, he was stiff, sore and disgruntled. Draco carried himself off to the shower, releasing some tension in the thick steam with a swift stroke of his hand.

He sighed after, lonely. It was Tuesday. Over a week without Hermione. They often went out for drinks on a Tuesday, but not today. Yesterday's ambitious decision to spend money hadn't worked at making him feel better. But Draco knew he wouldn't feel better cooped up in his apartment.

He was baffled by how he used to get through the days. He decided to go to the library. He could spend another day alone amongst people, which was what Draco felt he needed. No one to ask awkward questions. He decided to take the tube, and spent the day researching muggle myths and legends about supernatural beasts.

On Wednesday he was starting to feel better. He went to the London zoo and spent time looking for similarities between magical and non-magical beasts.

On Thursday he returned to the library.

By Friday Draco was feeling recovered enough to see people properly. He went to St Mungo's Hospital and visited all the young children, telling them stories about Muggle ideas on supernatural beasts. He made the children laugh. He felt elated.

The weekends were spent walking, reading and playing with the new potions in the book he'd bought. The next week followed a similar pattern – visiting libraries and poring over muggle fantasies, and visiting hospitals. By the following Friday, Draco was feeling like he finally had a purpose. He had wandered through the world after the war without a meaning. He had followed after the peace Hermione had brought him like the lonely dog he was.

Hermione brought out the best in him, even when she wasn't there.

As Draco forced himself to live a life worth living, he realised that his hope in a future with Hermione grew, rather than diminished with the separation. Draco knew that he was truly in love. But, he thought he already knew anyway.

He continued to visit ill children, and to study. He visited Muggle hospitals and joined a martial arts group. The physical exercise brought him home every night feeling pleasantly tired. He joined a witches' group which taught muggle skills, such as how to work a coffee machine, or cook without magical aid.

With every new thing Draco felt like he was growing; growing into the person Hermione needed him to be. Growing into the person Ron could never be.

Sometimes of an evening Draco would set down his novel, and sip his wine thoughtfully, contemplating Hermione's life if she chose to marry Ron. He could just see her – a shrivelled remnant of her current, already drained self, with six children tumbling around the place, all with shocks of frizzy red hair. The daughter she thought would be her friend, to make up for her lost youth, can't stand her and hopes she doesn't end up like her mother. She'd resent her in-laws and they'd resent her.

And there would be Ron – gaggle of friends and family, slowly blossoming on the life he was sucking out of that gorgeous creature that was naive enough to love him.

He tried to imagine a life if she was with him, and couldn't. Draco liked to imagine that she would be happy, but he could only imagine a caricature of a real life, nothing that was really possible.

And then Draco would smile, or sigh, and swallow his wine before heading into the shower and then to bed, to start again the next day.

Another week passed and Draco began to feel the loneliness, a loneliness he didn't remember noticing before he bumped into Hermione that fateful day. He took out the Goblin head dress he'd bought and ran the chains through his fingers. It has designed to sit horizontally across the brow, several strands of metal banding around the head, with little tiny charms dangling from the front. It would look gorgeous on Hermione, with her dark curly hair and golden skin.

It was an uneventful Wednesday night. Draco had spent the day reading Muggle fairy tales to children in a Muggle hospital. He had gone to the martial arts class afterwards, before picking up terribly unhealthy takeaway food on the way home on the tube. He was enjoying living a Muggle life. The nurses at the hospital were starting to recognise him, and nobody in his classes was judging him on his family notoriety or wealth. They had no idea that he could kill them as soon as look at them, and unlike a great majority of the wizarding world, they didn't expect him to.

He was sitting at home, flipping through an old Quidditch magazine, munching his takeaway and gulping his wine when there was a knock on the door.

His heart leapt into his mouth, and Draco swallowed hard, feeling the greasy food cannonball into his stomach. It could only be her. No one else knew where he lived; no one else would call, besides. Draco jumped to his feet, shook crumbs off his shirt and futilely tried to smarten himself up.

He checked through the viewer muggle doors had in them. His heart beat so hard Draco was sure she must be able to hear it on the other side of the door. Hermione. She was here.

Draco flung the door open. He was struck by how small Hermione looked – not just that she was short, and he was tall, and not just that her body was too thin. She looked emotionally spent, yet there was a sweet smile on her face, and a faint look of surprise.

"You look great," she said quietly.

Draco said, "So do you," even though it wasn't true. It was great to see her, but she looked quite awful. "Come in!" Draco cried, suddenly realising they were standing awkwardly in the doorway. Hermione stepped inside, and Draco wanted to throw his arms around her, but he restrained himself. He didn't know why she was here – he had to stay proper.

They went through to Draco's sitting room. He offered Hermione his chair, and sat down in the one opposite. "Would you like a glass?" Draco asked, picking up his wine, and frowning at his takeaway.

"Uh, no, thanks," Hermione said, sitting delicately. "I've been, ah, a bit dependant on it lately. Trying to cut back." She gave him a thin smile.

Draco was bursting with joy at seeing her again. He had known he would. He was waiting to hear her news, hopeful and terrified at the same moment.

Hermione was wringing her hands in her lap, her long hair falling in curls about her face. She sucked in a breath so deep Draco could hear it. He swigged nervously at his wine, waiting.

Hermione looked up at him, smiling, and asked, "How are you?"

Frustration and relief rushed through Draco in equal measures. "I'm fine. I'm ... I'm good actually. Been keeping busy."

"You look really good," Hermione said, with a faint blush on her cheeks. "I've missed you," she continued softly, after a moment.

"I've missed you too." Draco wanted to jump across the room and kiss her.

"So," Hermione said, settling back into the chair a little more, "I've finished it with Ron."

Draco's heart soared. He wanted to leap up and sing. He wanted to grab Hermione and spin around the room with her. But he didn't. Just because her engagement was off did not mean she loved him, or wanted a relationship.

Hermione was watching him, and Draco realised with a jolt that he should say something. "Is that good or bad?" That seemed appropriate. He didn't want to pressure her.

Hermione sighed and leant back into the chair. Draco wondered if he would smell her perfume on it later.

"Good," Hermione answered after a moment. "Very good. It was the right choice." She smiled at him. "I left him a fortnight ago. I did some serious thinking, and nothing felt right about it. When I thought about what was keeping me with him, the first thought that came to mind was because I was used to him. And it struck me that if the first thought wasn't 'because I love him' then I probably didn't love him enough to marry him. So I ended it."

"What did everyone have to say about it?"

Hermione gave him a joyless smile. "They weren't amused. Molly Owled me incessantly for four days, and Ron isn't speaking to me at all. Ginny and Harry have kept their distance, too. But I've just felt so relieved, like this weight has been lifted, since I made the choice."

There was a little pause. Draco wasn't sure what to say. Finally, Hermione spoke again. "So, I said we'd figure it out, about us, if I split with Ron. So I guess we've got some figuring to do."

Draco looked her full in the face. "H-how do you feel about me, now?" he asked, dreading what her answer may be.

"I've thought about you a lot, Draco, over these past few weeks," Hermione said quietly. She was looking at her hands. "In fact, it's been hard not to think about you. But I needed the space, to sort out all these feelings.

"When I realised I didn't love Ron, I had to start asking _why_, what had changed? The only thing I could think of was you. Before I met you I was still feeling out of control, like I was rushing into something I didn't want, but I was doing it because of Ron. You were separate from that life, something just for me, and I've come to realise that I want to live for me, and not everyone else.

"I didn't know how bad it was," Hermione continued, glancing at her hands and back up at Draco every so often. "Not until after it was over. I didn't realise how depressed I was, how much I was drinking, and making myself miserable. I'd even thought ... well, very dark things. If not for you, I don't know what I would have done. Which led to my confusion towards you, Draco. But I think I know the truth now. I think I love you."

Draco's heart was thumping wildly in his chest, and now, surely, he thought he could take Hermione into his arms. But he looked into her eyes and saw she wasn't finished speaking yet.

"I don't know if it'll be forever, Draco, but I do love you, and ... and if you, uh, feel the same, then ... I thought ... perhaps – maybe – we could ... give us a go...?"

She was so nervous – Draco couldn't believe she doubted his feelings, after all, after his reaction when she'd cut herself off from him. Surely she knew that he lived only for her. Of course he wanted to 'give it a go'. She may not love him in the future, and they might ruin their friendship, but Draco couldn't think of that. The _now_ was too intoxicating.

"Of course, Hermione ... of course, I love you, I know it now more than ever," Draco cried, and moved the few paces across the room, and wrapped his arms around her. Hermione's arms came around his trunk; her head lay on his shoulder. Her hair was tickling up his nose, her shampoo and perfume tantalising him. He pressed a kiss through her hair and into her little neck.

"Draco..." Hermione's voice shook, but she didn't budge from her tight grip on him. "I don't know if we should ... I mean, I know we already did ... _it_, but I'm nervous, and sad and ... I don't know. Not tonight. But I want to stay. Can I stay?"

"Of course, Hermione, of course," Draco said, though his body yearned for her, his heart ached to have her near. He would rather lie next to her and have her stay, than refuse her. If she wasn't ready, she wasn't. He would wait.

They went to the bedroom, curled up next to each other, and talked. Draco lent Hermione a shirt to sleep in, and Draco fell asleep on his back, with Hermione curled into his side, head on his chest, and her hair spread across his torso and tickling down his sides.

The morning came too soon. Hermione gave him a bashful kiss, waking him as she dressed. Draco rose, and helped her clean her clothes from the day before with a quick spell, showed her where he kept all the toiletries she might need, and then Hermione was gone to work.

Draco spent the day floating around in a daze. He sent flowers to her work, and bought fresh groceries to cook Hermione a meal, now that he had some idea of how to do that.

This day seemed longer than the one after the last time he'd seen her. The hours dragged on, and Draco couldn't settle to anything. Eventually the day was drawing to a close, and Hermione reappeared at the door. Draco let her in and offered to cook, but to his minor disappointment, Hermione declined.

"Let's go back to the restaurant," she said, smiling impishly up at him. "I ... I brought some of my things over, so I'll just go and get changed."

Hermione looked happier than Draco remembered seeing her for a very long time. While she was in the bedroom, he felt a crazy urge to sneak in behind her, run his hands around her naked belly, and –

No! Thoughts like that wouldn't do. Hermione would let him know when she was ready, and he mustn't pressure her. But that look in her eyes told him she wanted him. And the way his blood pumped made it hard for him to restrain himself. Draco didn't pretend to understand the female mind (though he must know better than Ron, he thought with some strange pride) but it seemed to him that Hermione's nervousness and piety were tied together.

Hermione re-emerged from the bedroom. She had donned a floor length dress in midnight blue, her tanned shoulders frail in their nakedness. She was still too thin, but she looked better, Draco thought. A thin gold chain dangled from her neck, and her hair was twisted back into an elegant knot.

Draco smiled at her. "You look wonderful." He wanted to kick himself for sounding like a cliché.

Hermione returned his smile. "Thank you," she said. She walked over to him; Draco could see the gentle sashay of her hips under the linen cloth of her gown. Hermione stepped up beside him, stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. Draco breathed in her lovely scent, and the expensive perfume wafting musk-ily around her jaw. He felt a twitch in his groin.

Hermione stepped back, and gave him a gentle look. "I made the right choice," she said.

Draco didn't reply, but took a box from the table beside his favourite armchair and gave it to Hermione. "I bought this for you."

The smile disappeared from her face, a look of surprise taking its place. "Thank you..." she said breathlessly, taking the small parcel. Hermione perched on the edge of the chair's arm and flipped the box open.

Draco watched anxiously her reaction. Hermione took the chain from the box and ran it over her fingers. "Oh, Draco ... this is beautiful. Surely you're not giving me this?"

"Most assuredly," Draco replied, stepping across and taking it from her. He shook the chains out and positioned them across Hermione's brow, over her hair, adjusting the clips.

Hermione reached her fingers up to touch the small details that hung delicately over her eyebrows. "But Draco this is goblin wrought! It must have cost a fortune!"

"You're worth it," Draco said quietly, stepping in front of her, his hand coming to rest on her neck, one on her waist. Their eyes met, and Draco leaned down and pressed his lips gently to Hermione's. A zap went through his core as she deepened the kiss, her lips sliding against his. Draco groaned gently, parting his lips, but – Hermione pulled away, finishing the kiss promptly with a smacking sound.

"Let's go to dinner," she said, a little huskily.

And as she led the way to the door, Draco realised she was trying to entice him! His libido growled with frustration, but his mouth smiled. What a woman she was.

They returned to the Asian eatery. Draco could feel tension in the air, different to the last time they'd eaten together. Hermione wasn't drinking tonight. They shared a plate of dumplings for desert, Draco rolling his eyes as Hermione lapped the syrup from her fingers and laughed at him.

Draco was pleased to see her looking so happy.

They walked all the way back to his apartment afterwards, talking about little things, holding hands. The charms on the goblin headdress tinkled a light tune against Hermione's forehead with each step she took, and Draco couldn't stop staring at her. They may have only been apart a few weeks, but Draco wanted to store up enough memories to last him a lifetime, in case she ever slipped away again. He hoped she didn't.

As they neared his home, Hermione stopped and looked at him, her face slightly calculating. Draco gazed back, wondering what she was thinking, but then Hermione kissed him and all thought wiped out of his mind. His hands snaked around her, one behind her neck, holding her to him. Her lips were cold from the night air, and slippery with gloss, soft against his. Draco shuddered as he felt the tip of Hermione's tongue skate across his lips, and then she withdrew before he could respond.

"Draco," Hermione said, folding her body into his embrace, "I know I have my own place, but ... do you think I could stay with you again tonight?"

Her voice told him what she meant, even if her words didn't. He nodded mutely, and led her inside.

He felt obliged to offer her a drink. She asked for coffee, and Draco made a cup for both of them. They sat together on the rug and Draco lit the fire, magically. He didn't have a television and Hermione didn't want the wireless on, so they sat facing each other, cradling their cups, and talking.

They were sharing old school stories, laughing together at the ridiculousness of school rivalries. "I hope Harry and the others will come around to the idea of us ... being an 'us'," Draco said, suddenly serious.

Hermione smiled at him, slightly cheeky in the way her eyelids fluttered over her coffee cup as she gently set it aside. "If they feel anything like I do, you won't have anything to worry about..."

Hermione leaned across his lap, and kissed him. It was sweet, and gentle, but there was a promise in the way her lips pushed against his that sent pulses shooting down his spine. Draco pressed his lips back against Hermione's mouth, his hand snaking up her neck, but then his brain kicked back in and he pulled away. He had to wait for her. Though Draco was sure sex was in Hermione's mind, he wanted her to be the one to instigate it – he didn't want her to feel at all pressured.

He broke the moment by saying, "I'm pretty certain they don't feel anything for me the way you do," in response to her comment.

Hermione was looking at him curiously, and then she broke into laughter. She chuckled as she shuffled closer to him. "Don't be coy with me, Draco, that's my job..." Her lips found his again.

Hermione's lips crushed against his own, and Draco felt his breathing quicken as her tongue slid wetly along his bottom lip, before she sucked it into her mouth. Draco heard the half-groan half-sigh that echoed in his throat, and his groin tightened as his arms wrapped around Hermione and pulled her, clumsily, into his lap. She moved with him, and gently leaned her body into his until he was lying on the rug, the fire roaring dangerously behind his head, with Hermione straddling his lap.

Draco parted his lips, and put his tongue out to meet Hermione's. The press of the soft muscle against his own drove rational thought from his head, and all he knew, with his whole being, was how much he wanted her, how much he needed her. More than anything, he felt his heart beating with joy that it was _her_, Hermione, the woman he loved, and she wanted him too.

Draco didn't even know he had been reaching for Hermione's breast until it was under his hand. She sighed against his mouth as he gently rubbed the sensitive flesh. Her chest heaved against his own as she gasped in a breath, sighing against his mouth. Draco's free hand ran up and down Hermione's body, over her thigh, and back up to tangle in her hair, pulling her face close to his, not letting her break the kiss.

Hermione's dress was pooled up around her legs, draped across Draco's torso. His hand came back down Hermione's body, down her thigh again, his fingers trailing over the smooth, soft skin of her leg. As his hand moved up again, he slid it under her skirt.

Hermione responded to his touch, rolling her hips against his gently, an arm snaking around his neck. His hand left her breast and wrapped around her back. With a little movement and manoeuvring, Draco switched their positions, pinning Hermione beneath him, pushing the skirt of her dress up around her hips.

Suddenly he paused, broke the kiss, sat back and looked down at Hermione. Damn, what a sight she was! Her breasts were round, cleavage rising from the neck line of her dress. He wanted to put his mouth there, taste the sweat breaking on her skin. Her hair was curling wildly about her, the chains of the headdress askew, snagging in her tresses. Her face was flushed, lips parted, pouting, as if seeking his again. Hermione tipped herself up to look at him. There was a question in her eyes.

"Is this what you want, Hermione?" he asked, slightly shamed by the hoarseness of his voice. "If you want to wait, just tell me. But please, tell me now..." he chuckled lowly, without any real humour. He knew he would stop whenever she asked - he just didn't really want to be put in that position. Much as he might like to deny it, his libido, like any man, had a stronger hold on him than he cared for.

"I want _you_," she said, sitting up and reaching for him. "Every bit of you. I want you to take me. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said, smiling back her, not only with humour now but also with brazen promise. He continued to shift Hermione's dress up. "Just making sure."

"I'm very sure," Hermione smirked back at him, holding her hand out for him still. Draco fell into her embrace, his lips meeting hers again. Shortly, he pulled away. Tonight was all about her. Hermione deserved to be worshipped, something she hadn't felt recently. He wanted to give her everything it was in his power to give her.

Draco trailed his lips over Hermione's jaw, down her neck, kissing a deep path down, down ... Hermione giggled a little, and stroked the side of his face. Draco's mouth reached the top of Hermione's dress. His tongue dipped into the valley of her breasts. The dampness there tasted sweet.

Draco slid his body further down, kissing Hermione's belly through her gown. He reached her hips, where the fabric rested in folds about her body. Draco pushed the dress a little higher, kissing the firm curve of flesh above the fabric of Hermione's underwear. He looped his fingers into the lacy waistband, tugging gently. Hermione obligingly lifted her hips and Draco removed the garment.

Gently, he urged Hermione's knees apart. Her palm, still pressed to his cheek, halted him suddenly. Draco looked up at her, confused.

"Draco ... I'm nervous ... no one's ever done ... that... to me before." Hermione stammered, leaning upwards on her elbows, looking at him but not quite meeting his eyes, an embarrassed blush gracing her face.

Draco was lost for words momentarily. Hermione had been dating Ron since school. He could only assume they had been intimate for most of that time. Draco himself may not have had a multitude of girlfriends, but he did believe in give and take. Besides, he knew most women enjoyed this type of love. It would be selfish to withhold it. On top of all that, he enjoyed doing it. He liked the way women reacted. Performing this act for a woman made him more aroused. So, they both won.

"It's alright," Draco said to Hermione, gently, placing his hand over her own. "I'll go slowly. When it feels nice, tell me so. Don't be nervous." He smiled reassuringly, moved her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingertips. Then he nudged her knees apart again, and bent down.

Hermione gasped the instant his mouth touched her. Draco felt a wave surge through his head, blinding out all thought, as the faint taste of her met his tongue, as her smell invaded his senses. He lapped gently, his tongue gentle and flat, exploring her. He could feel her tension, and reached a hand up to take hers, squeezing reassuringly. Her body relaxed slightly.

Draco tried different movements with his tongue, until Hermione drew in a sharp breath, her body jerking. He continued the same, varying speed and pressure. He felt the remaining stress leave Hermione's body as enjoyment overtook her. Her breathing began to deepen, hitching in her chest. Hermione's hand curled tight around his own as her pleasure flowed over her.

Afterward, there was a moment where they lay quietly beside each other. Draco slid up Hermione's body and kissed her chastely on the lips. He listened to Hermione's panting, stroking her hair with one hand, the other running gently over the curves of her body.

Hermione sighed and then giggled. Her hands curled around Draco's neck and he felt her kiss his forehead. "Thank you," she whispered, and giggled again. Draco smiled, running his hand over her hair.

"I want you," Hermione whispered again. "Take me now."

Draco felt a jolt of electricity shoot through his body. He began to quiver and pulled his body up straight over Hermione's. He looked down at her. She was smiling, a pleasant, post-orgasmic smile that relaxed her features and made her look all the more beautiful. Hermione's legs came around Draco's, her hips tipping upwards to meet his. He let his hand go first, running gently over her folds, testing her readiness. Hermione's hips pushed more forcefully. Sucking in a ragged breath, Draco placed himself at her opening.

Draco wrapped his hand tightly into Hermione's hair as he slowly slid his length into her hot centre. A low groan tore from his throat as he felt the soft cushioning of her walls enveloping him. Draco pressed a hard kiss into Hermione's neck. Her arms wrapped around him, one leg slid over his thigh as they began to move together.

Draco wanted it to last. Though they'd slept together before, that night had been drunken, hasty. This was their true first time. He wanted it to be special. But his desire for Hermione was making it difficult for him to control himself. Her hips ground hard against his, her leg pushing against his buttocks, the smell of her overtook his mind.

Draco slipped his arm under Hermione's back and pulled her closer. Her breasts were pressed against him, the sharp edge of her ribs evident against his arm. His lips moved against her neck.

Hermione was writhing beneath him, the guttural noises coming from her throat echoing his own, and before Draco knew it his climax was upon him. He pulled roughly away from Hermione. Mortified, he quickly hobbled into the bathroom to wipe himself. When he came back, Hermione was standing just outside the doorway, totally naked, a sly smile perched on her lips.

"I beg your pardon," she said, slipping her arm around his waist and sliding her body up against him. "I'm not the kind of girl you can love and leave."

Draco smiled, and pressed a kiss into her hair. "I'm so sorry. That's terrible. I'm ... so embarrassed."

Hermione rubbed her hand against his chest, smiling cheekily. "It's okay. But I'm the kind of girl who wants cuddles afterwards."

Draco wrapped his arms around her. "Mm, cuddles," her murmured in her ear. Hermione laughed.

"C'mon," she whispered. "Let's go to bed. We've got the rest of the night..."

Draco followed Hermione to the bedroom.

The next day dawned rainy and miserable. Draco stood at the window, a cup of coffee in his hand, Hermione stretched out on her front on the bed, her hands wrapped around her own cup. Draco watched the rain drizzling down past his apartment. Hermione sighed contentedly and Draco turned to face her.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

Hermione smiled at him. "A little sore," she giggled. Draco smiled lightly. "Good," she said more seriously. "Really good. I haven't felt this happy in a long time."

Draco smiled at her, and walked over to the bed to sit beside her. He took her hand, kissing it gently. "I know the feeling," he murmured. "And you make me happy. My life has never been as good as it's been since I saw you that day in Diagon Alley. All I want is you," he said and kissed her.

Hermione smiled up at him. "All I want is you, too."

* * *

There it is! Story done. I hope you all liked it. I apologise again for the time lapse between chapters. Thanks for reading!


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